


Fling

by gooseberry



Series: Listen to the Never [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/F, Female Ignis Scientia, Female Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gymnastics, Recordings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 07:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19352455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooseberry/pseuds/gooseberry
Summary: “Wait,” Prompto says when one girl in particular stands out. “Is that—is that seriously Iggy?”It’s not hard to see the resemblance, even if Ignis in the video is probably only eight or nine. She’s standing a little apart from the two other girls with her, and her posture is as impeccable as a kid as it is as an adult. She’s even got the strict, no-nonsense thing going for her already; her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at the bars like she wants to maybe set them on fire, or read them the riot act.





	Fling

**Author's Note:**

> For the '100 words of recordings' prompt.

“Wanna see something?” Noct asks without warning. She’s looking smug, which is usually a bad sign; a smug Noct is usually a Noct who’s blatantly breaking rules, certain that she’s gonna get away with murder just because no one can—or is willing to—pin shit on her. On this point, see basically all the times Prompto gets bitched out for skipping class, while the teachers don’t even blink when Noct plays hooky.

“What?” Prompto asks cautiously. He doesn’t think Noct would show him anything like state secrets, inadvertently or otherwise, but better safe than sorry. 

Noct just brushes off his caution, though, grabbing his arm and tugging him closer. “C’mon, it’s adorable.”

It—as it turns out—is a video on Noct’s phone. It starts out blurry, but it clears pretty fast, zooming in on the center of a gym. It’s set up for gymnastics: mats spread out across the whole floor, and different stations, like bars and a beam and one of those horse thingies. There are a bunch of kids in the video, all these little girls in groups of three or four, and the camera zooms in further, to the group of girls standing near the bars. 

“Wait,” Prompto says when one girl in particular stands out. “Is that—is that seriously Iggy?” 

It’s not hard to see the resemblance, even if Ignis in the video is probably only eight or nine. She’s standing a little apart from the two other girls with her, and her posture is as impeccable as a kid as it is as an adult. She’s even got the strict, no-nonsense thing going for her already; her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at the bars like she wants to maybe set them on fire, or read them the riot act. 

There’s a woman talking to the girls—a coach, probably—and when she gestures at Ignis, Ignis drops her hands to her sides, nods sharply, and steps forward. And like—holy shit, she’s _tiny_. Even the short bar seems like it’s towering above her, and Prompto finds himself holding his breath when the woman grabs Ignis, lifting her up toward the lower bar.

So like, Prompto knows it’s gonna end well, or at least not end badly. Ignis is alive and well, and it doesn’t seem like she’d cracked her head or snapped her neck as a kid; knowing that, though, is definitely different from believing that, especially when he’s watching this tiny version of Ignis spin around these bendy, flimsy looking bars like she’s got no worries.

“Holy shit,” he whispers when Ignis lets go of the bar, flinging her body across the gap between the bars; it looks a lot wider now, and a hell of a lot emptier. When her hands slap into the higher bar, he sucks in a breath and says again, “Holy shit. This is Iggy? Seriously?”

“She’s good, right?” It sounds less like Noct’s asking a question and more like she’s stating a fact. Prompto manages to tear his eyes away from video, to take a peek at how intently Noct is watching the video. 

“Um, _yeah_. Dude, she’s legit. Like an actual gymnast?” 

Noct grimaces at what Prompto says, her mouth tightening and turning down for a brief frown. Prompto hesitates, wondering what he said wrong, what new landmine he’s stumbled on today. He asks, very carefully, “Isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Noct says, still looking resolutely at her phone; Prompto looks down at it, too, at the tiny Ignis who’s let go of the upper bar and is plummeting to the mat in what’s probably a controlled flip, but still has Prompto holding his breath again. There’s an awful moment when Ignis hits the mat, one of her feet sliding to the side, and Prompto flinches. Then she’s straightening up, her shoulders going back and her chest going out, her arms flung stiffly to either side as she lifts her chin. Noct laughs, just this short, breathy thing, and says, “It’s cute, right? How serious she is?”

“It’s so Iggy.” Prompto leans a little to the side so he can bump his shoulder against Noct’s, and he’s rewarded with Noct grinning and rolling her eyes at him. 

There are, Noct is quick to inform him, more videos to watch: Ignis on the balance beam, and Ignis on the floor mats; Ignis on the horse thingie, and Ignis on the uneven bars again; there’s even one of Ignis on a trampoline, doing higher and faster flips and somersaults than Prompto thinks he’s seen anyone do. Prompto’s not a big fan—or, to be fair, any kind of fan—of gymnastics, but he’s pretty sure that Ignis—this tiny, serious, mini version of Ignis—is objectively good. Like, really good; the kind of good that makes people famous and shit, if they keep with it. And Prompto may not know Ignis super well, but he thinks he knows her well enough to know that she’s not the kind of person who just changes her interests and her hobbies on a whim; she’s way too serious for that, and way too dedicated.

So it’s like edging out into a minefield, trying to spread his weight out and not step on any particularly sore spots, when he asks Noct, “Why doesn’t she, uh, do gymnastics anymore?”

Noct’s shrug is jerky, jostling her against Prompto’s side, and she kinda hunkers down around her phone. “Didn’t have the right body. She’s too tall, y’know? Besides—” Noct clicks her tongue, sounding frustrated and maybe impatient. “She wouldn’t’ve had time, even though she—even if she’d wanted to keep with it. 

“You know,” Noct says, and she glances at Prompto sidelong, a kind of shy look that makes Prompto wonder how much of Noct’s frustration and impatience is for Ignis, and how much of it is really for Noct herself. “Her job, it’s kinda—the things she does for me—”

“Pretty sweet gig,” Prompto blurts out, because Ignis is all serious and shit, and Prompto may not know her well, but he knows he’s never seen her look at anyone or anything the way she looks at Noct. “She’s, uh, she’s got it made already. And I mean, seriously, can you imagine anyone making Iggy do anything she doesn’t wanna do?”

He digs his elbow into Noct’s side then, just enough to get her to snort and elbow him back.


End file.
